


The Eye of the Storm

by SpaceWaffleHouseTM



Series: One Shots from the Waffle House [16]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Canon compliant (kinda), Coming In Pants, Death Star rain fight smut, Dry Humping, Dry Humping in the Rain, F/M, First Kiss, Is it really dry humping though given how soaking wet they are, Kissing in the Rain, No Pregnancy, Oops, Post TLJ, Smut, TROS trailer inspired, because the author was too lazy to take off their clothes, the wettest dry humping you’ll ever read, they’re gonna fuck on the Death Star kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-29 07:29:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21136019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceWaffleHouseTM/pseuds/SpaceWaffleHouseTM
Summary: This isn’t a fight, not anymore. Not when he’s looking at her like that, not when he’s kissing her like she’s his oxygen, and definitely not when he has her pinned to the wall of the Death Star, his name falling from her lips like a prayer.





	The Eye of the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> I can’t get the TRoS trailer out of my mind so have another one shot kids.

This was supposed to be a fight. It started off as one, it began with a violent, vicious clashing of sabers, with the hum of their weapons soaring through the spray of the ocean around them as they began a dance of deadly proportions. 

For a while, it remained a battle, their teeth stayed bared and their eyes were full of fire, the smoke visible for miles on end even through the rain and the spray. But fire was frequently defeated by water, and she and Ben were both soaking before they even began their fight. They never stood a chance, not from the beginning—not since the woods on Starkiller Base. 

The fight forced her to retreat once he actually started attacking, but he never seemed to be doing it with the intent to kill, only to make her retreat. She backed away, parrying blows until her back hit an enormous, black, metal wall, and she blocked his final attack with a war cry that was lost to the swirling seas around them. 

Here, this high up on the Death Star’s remains, only the barest traces of salt spray lapped at their feet, their biggest water threat belonged to the rain. Puddles swirled around their feet as they stared at one another from beneath the blade lock, and she saw him— _ felt  _ him—moving closer and closer beneath the ignited sabers. Her breathing shuddered as she let him advance, sensing his emotions—his desire, his hunger, his sorrow, his loneliness—through the force as he looked at her with pleading eyes. “Rey,” he breathed, and suddenly it wasn’t a fight anymore. 

It was definitely not a fight. Not when his eyes were drawn to her lips, or hers were drawn to his, and definitely not when they actually came together beneath their blades, their lips locking against a sea of lavender from the light just above their heads. 

His lips tasted like salt. Hell, they both tasted like salt, they were absolutely drenched with saline water from the ocean that surrounded them, but it was already the best thing she’d ever tasted. Beneath that salt was something she could only describe as  _ Ben,  _ something that kept her grounded even as the waves below threatened to sweep them out to sea. 

As long as they were kissing, they wouldn’t drift away.

At some point, they both disengaged their weapons, and two lightsaber hilts fell loudly at their feet, but neither of them cared. All they cared about was each other, and the way they were slowly becoming one. Rey’s hands cane up around his neck, fisting themselves in his hair as his arms wrapped around her waist, and he pulled her in close. 

She could feel immense waves of pleasure swirling through him from her kiss; could feel each glorious brush of her lips against his on top of her own feelings through the bond, and it sent her mind into a tailspin. They’d known for a while that they could feel each other in the bond, could touch what the other was touching, could taste what the other was eating, but it had never been like  _ this.  _

This was the most intense, all-consuming, and utterly mind blowing thing she’d ever experienced, and it wasn’t slowing down either, it was speeding up. Ben lifted her from the ground, holding her above him so she was leaning down to kiss his touch-starved lips. On instinct, her legs wrapped around his waist, and he groaned softly before taking a step forward, and pinning them both against the wall she’d slammed into a moment earlier. 

She gasped into the kiss from the contact, then she put all of her focus into returning it as she sank down a little in his arms—back down to a more comfortable, more manageable level for kissing. 

The feelings it brought were unfathomable. It felt like she was on fire but drowning in his touch at the same time, drowning in the wind and the rain and the waves, and burning from the feeling of his hands on hers. The combination of his feelings on top of her own was almost too much to bear, and she pressed herself further against him, unsure of what imperative, what biological drive was making her want this so badly, but knowing she needed this. 

They needed each other. 

She could feel his erection pressing up against the apex of her thighs a second later and his waves of pleasure washing over him just from the slightest touch. It sent her mind reeling again, but she knew what she had to do. 

Gathering the last of her focus, Rey began to grind herself against him, moaning softly into the kiss as he returned the motion, then they began to grind against each other in earnest. They found a rhythm together, and once they settled into it, rocking against one another slowly but surely, he pulled away, and she could see his dilated pupils searching hers for signs that this was truly what she wanted. 

Of course it was, she thought. She’d never wanted anything else. Or any _ one _ else. 

“You’re sure?” he asked her anyway, and when he nearly slowed his pace to a stop she thought she might’ve been about to die a slow, painful death. 

“Shut up,” she replied, then she pulled him back in for another kiss, and moaned obscenities that were lost to the crashing sea. Rain whipped at her face as his lips abandoned hers, and began kissing rain droplets from her jaw, her neck, her shoulder before moving back up, and kissing away the water that replaced it. 

All she could think was his name as he stopped kissing her by her pulse point, and instead sucked her skin between his lips, his teeth grazing her in a way that had her gasping in sweet, beautiful agony. This was bliss, this was joy, this was what she’d been yearning for since she touched his hand on Ahch-To. It was everything she’d been searching for and more, and she could only think one word— _ more, more, more, more, more _ —as she ground against him a little harder. 

He made her feel  _ electric.  _ She felt like the lightning clashing in the sky above them was also running through her veins, keeping her powered, awake, and alive as their mutual pleasure radiated through the bond. 

She could feel his joy on top of hers, could feel him slowly coming undone with every time his cock brushed against her clit through their drenched clothing. She could hear the tiny little sounds he was making against her neck as he released her from his mouth, and began to pant against her between slow, lazy kisses. 

She could feel him as he began to reach the point of no return, bringing her to that same point with him in those moments before they both would fall over the edge together—before the ocean would swallow them whole. 

“Ben,” she whispered, saying his name like it was some kind of desperate prayer as she held onto him more tightly than ever before, reveling in the warmth his body provided, in the way he sheltered her from the cold while they brought each other closer and closer with every passing second. 

“I’m here,” he replied, and his voice was so low, so quiet, so gentle and genuine, that it sent her tumbling over that precipice and the waves began to wash over her as she cried out sharply, burying her face in his neck as she came. 

Since he was able to feel everything she was feeling, he wasn’t far behind her. Ben came just over a second later with a shuddering breath, his entire chest shaking against hers as he followed her into the water, as the rain washed over their shivering bodies and heightened each sensation. She could feel his orgasm as their movements began to grind to a halt, and fresh, new waves of sheer bliss rushed through them both, rendering them over sensitive and dazed, forcing them to stop before they wanted to because it felt  _ too  _ good. 

Coming down from that high felt almost as good as riding it, and as Ben pulled away from her neck, as one of his soaking wet, glove-covered hands caressed her cheek, she melted into his touch again. 

It felt like forever before her mind regained any degree of clarity, but eventually, she opened her eyes fully to look at him, taking in his flushed cheeks and red lips as he painted in front of her, his warm breath ghosting over her lips the same way she knew hers was doing to his. “We can’t stay here,” she whispered, remembering the two friends she’d left behind further down on the Death Star. “They’ll find us.”

He shivered in her arms, and pressed her further into the wall as his forehead dipped down to rest against hers. “I know, but not yet.”

“But soon?”

Giving her a nod, he sighed, the sound blending in with the intensifying rain and a rumble of thunder. “Can I hold you? Just for a minute?”

_ Fuck _ , she wanted him to, she wanted it more than anything, and so she began to stroke his hair, holding him close against her as she closed her eyes, and gave him the only answer she could think to give. “Okay,” she said, then she inhaled deeply, breathing in the smell of the salt water and Ben, taking in sweet oxygen into her lungs as they basked in this tiny little stolen moment in the ruins of the Death Star—

As they basked in this tiny little moment before the hands of a metaphorical clock started moving again, and the world stole them away into chaos. 


End file.
